


Snuff on Digital

by tanathil



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Blood and Gore, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Death, M/M, Necrophilia, Non-Consensual, Overstimulation, The non-con is NOT between Will and Hannibal, Will Tops From The Bottom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-13
Updated: 2020-10-13
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:40:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26996065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tanathil/pseuds/tanathil
Summary: In the basement, there’s a stainless steel table bolted to the cold concrete floor.On the table, there’s a man.Will and Hannibal film a home video, in the Murder Husbands style.
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham/Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 14
Kudos: 79





	Snuff on Digital

**Author's Note:**

> A fill for Kinktober, Day 11: Necrophilia  
> 

In the basement, there’s a stainless steel table bolted to the cold concrete floor. On the table, there’s a man, strapped down at the wrists and ankles with pieces of sturdy black leather. The man is on his back, naked and blindfolded, a ball gag in his mouth, the bright red colour of it in sharp contrast against his pale skin, drool dripping from the corners of his stretched open lips.

Above the table, on the ceiling, there’s a cluster of small spotlights, pointing straight down. Everything else is in darkness.

Will is standing next to the bound figure, fingertips caressing the tensed muscles on the man’s stomach. The man bucks and writhes under the touch, constant noises of distress leaving his gagged mouth. Will pays this no mind. He looks at the man’s cock, surrounded by dark pubic hairs, soft and limp, and lets out a disapproving sound.

There’s a bottle of lube placed on the table, above the man’s head. Will reaches for it, coats his right hand with the slick liquid, circles that limp organ with his fingers. And now, the man makes an effort to keep himself still, tries to cease his struggles so he doesn’t unintentionally push against the fingers trying to coax him to hardness. It’s all for naught for Will is good, he is talented in this, knows just how to rub, how to pull, where to touch, and soon the man’s cock is standing proudly up, thick with blood, erect and pulsing in Will’s hand.

“Are you ready to start?” Hannibal asks. He is standing close by, half hidden in the shadows of the basement. On his hand, there’s a video camera, not yet turned on.

“Ready if you are,” Will answers. He keeps his eyes on the bound man, on his rapidly rising and lowering chest. A shiver of anticipation runs through him, all the way down his spine, a tingling sensation warming him to his core. Inside the trapped confines of his jeans, his cock aches.

Without a word, Hannibal lifts his arm, points the lens towards the two illuminated figures surrounded by darkness. He powers the machine up, presses 'rec'.

A tiny red light turns on and after that Will wastes no time, efficiently taking his clothes off, letting the pieces of fabric carelessly fall to the floor. He climbs on top of the table, knees against the hard cold steel, straddling the man in all his naked glory. He coats his fingers with more lube, leans over, balances himself with one hand placed next to the blindfolded head, starts fingering himself open.

Will goes at it sloppily, too quick, too fast, doesn’t give himself enough time to get accustomed to the stretch before inserting another finger. It’s painful, the burn of it making Will grit his teeth together, making him scrunch his eyes shut, but it’s also _so fucking good_. He’s so hard it hurts and he is impatient so he gives up after three digits, pulls them out of his barely stretched hole.

Will reaches down, takes hold of the man’s erect cock. He starts to lower his hips, holding his breath, using his weight to force the tip past his burning rim.

The man doubles his efforts to break loose. He roughly jerks his lower body, desperately tries to throw Will off of him, to stop this unwanted act from happening. Will is not deterred by this, and soon he’s got the whole length of the man's erection in. For a long while Will just sits there, ass flush against the man’s groin, gasping with his head thrown back, eyes closed against the brightness of the lights above them, his palms resting on top of his own thighs as the man bucks and writhes, every motion making his cock push deliciously against Will’s insides.

Finally, _finally_ he starts to move, at first just rolling his hips in slow circles, rocking his body on top of the bound, struggling man, letting the cock ease him into openness, getting his hole used to the stretch. Then he leans over, places his hands on the man’s chest, pinning his upper body down and balancing himself as he moves his hips up, pushes back down, steadily picking up the tempo as he starts fucking himself with gusto on the man’s cock.

A small little ‘ah’ sounds escape from Will’s lips every time he lowers himself down, the angle making the cock brush against his prostate on each inward slide. By now the man’s distressed sounds have switched to desperate moans, his body unwillingly forced to accept the pleasure that is a warm body engulfing his erect organ.

It’s all so, _so_ good and it’s only going to get better ‘cause soon Will feels his orgasm vastly approaching, the muscles on his stomach and thighs tightening in readiness. He’s almost there, almost, almost, and now Will has to act fast so he grabs the knife that’s been on the table all this time, above the man’s head where the bottle of lube - now lying discarded on the floor - used to be, just innocently resting there, patiently waiting for its time to be wielded, to do what its sharpness promises.

Will holds the hilt, the weight of the steel familiar in his hand, and for a few heartbeats he just looks at the face beneath him, twisted in pleasure and fear. He brings the blade against a pale throat and the man freezes, holds his breath. Will pulls his hips up and slams back down and he applies pressure with his hand, slices that throat open in one clean, practised movement. As the blood starts to gush out Will’s orgasm washes over him and he lets out a guttural moan, the sound echoing in the space around them.

He keeps on riding the twitching body beneath him, keeps on moving his hips even after the pressure against his prostate becomes too much, even after the man is no longer moving ‘cause his cock is still staying erect so Will rises and lowers himself, again and again. He leans down and licks at the spit wet lips stretched around the ball gag, then straightens back up, brings his hand to that gaping throat. He pushes his fingers inside the open wound, curiously feeling around the hot, slick place where the blood keeps steadily flowing out. He lifts his hand to his lips, smears the warm wetness around them, slides the digits inside his mouth, cleans them with his tongue and comes a second time, body jerking as if electrocuted, oversensitized to a point where his orgasm is more pain than pleasure and all the more enjoyable because of it.

Eventually he stops twitching, stops moving. He slumps forward, palms landing on either side of the man's head, slipping on the steel surface now covered in blood. He rises, lets the still erect cock slip out of his bruised hole. He climbs down from the table, naked feet hitting the cold concrete almost without a sound.

The red light blinks out. Will looks up at Hannibal, still standing in the shadows, his hand now relaxed, the camera facing the floor. Will circles the table and walks towards him, movements lethargic, his skin still thrumming with the aftereffects of his orgasms.

He stops right in front of Hannibal, meets his eyes. “Will you watch it with me? Later?” he asks, though he already knows the answer.

“Of course I will, darling. Just like I always do.”

Will’s blood covered lips turn up at the corners into a brilliant smile. He cradles Hannibal’s face in hands slick with redness and pulls him in, crashes his mouth against his in a hungry kiss. Hannibal kisses him back, humming appreciatively, his camera free hand moving to hold onto Will’s naked waist.

Eventually Will pulls away, rests his forehead against Hannibal’s, both of them breathing heavily.

“I fucking love you,” Will says, eyes wild, a manic little giggle escaping his mouth.

“As I do you. My beautiful, feral thing,” Hannibal murmurs, voice affectionate and proud.

# __________

A few days later, they will watch the recording while Will’s riding Hannibal an Will will come and his orgasm will be _almost_ as good as the one seen on the screen.

**Author's Note:**

> I also post tons of shorter pieces on Twitter in the form of fic threads. Come say hi! :) [@DEFONI IS WRITING SMUT ON TWTR](https://twitter.com/Defoni)
> 
> And the Kinktober fills not posted on Ao3 can be found here: [@DEFONI IS WRITING FILTH FOR KINKTOBER](https://twitter.com/Defoni/status/1311613992964628480)
> 
> The man killed in this one was Mathias Müller, a.k.a the Armie Hammer look-a-like introduced in [Fill No. 10](https://twitter.com/Defoni/status/1315553117094793216)  
> Rest in peace, Mathias, you will be missed 😔✊


End file.
